


No Right Way

by Seaver



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Fluff, Injury, Kid Fic, Kinda, M/M, Parents Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but I gloss over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13467237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaver/pseuds/Seaver
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky has a beautiful husband and a beautiful son.  He loves being a dad.  But an evening with Victor and Yuuri leaves him questioning things.Why do things always go south when those knuckleheads are involved?--Or--Lots of domestic Otayuri and kid fluff with some drama





	No Right Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purplestarzone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplestarzone/gifts).



> I took a break from editing another fic because the leader of my discord server kept asking for an Otayuri as parents kidfic. And then she mentioned her birthday was coming up.
> 
> So I glanced uncomfortably at my fics from when I was in high school, which continue to keep pace with my YoI stuff, even though they're over a decade old and they suck. And I thought, well, that *is* how I made my millions... (sarcasm)
> 
> And this is the result.
> 
> Warning: the kid gets hurt in this one. But it's not serious and I tried to keep the squicky stuff to a minimum. I really hope I succeeded, because I normally love to play up the drama.

When Yuri wiped the dripping glass cleaner off the mirror with his old rag, the image of his son appeared between the streaks. “Oh,” he said, tugging his earbuds out of his ears. “Sasha. What are you up to?”

When he finally wiped the streaks clean, he turned to look down at the child. From Yuri’s position on the bathroom counter, Sasha looked even tinier than normal.

“I’m a messenger,” Sasha said, as seriously as a four-year-old possibly could. He had a piece of paper and a crayon in his hands. “What do you want to say to Daddy?”

“Are you? Let’s see…” Yuri wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “How about ‘Dear Daddy, I hope you’re finished vacuuming, because Yuuri and Victor are going to be here soon. Love, Papa.’”

Yuri’s lips quirked up in amusement as Sasha fell to his knees and flattened his paper out on the bathroom tile. He grasped the crayon in his fist and scribbled a few lines of mock-writing. “Okay!” he said, standing back up. “I’ll be right back!”

“Okay,” Yuri replied, watching Sasha’s dark hair disappear around the corner.

He busied himself with cleaning the sink, crinkling his nose at the scent of the chemicals, until he heard the pounding of Sasha’s socked feet running back.

“Well?” he asked, glancing up at Sasha’s reflection in the mirror.

His son’s face was sour as he read from his notes. “It says, ‘Dear Papa, The vacuuming is done. I love you and miss you. Love, Daddy.’”

Well, that explained the look on Sasha’s face. He didn’t like being a deliveryman for their love letters. A smile crept onto Yuri’s face.

“Tell him, ‘I love you and miss you too. I can’t wait to give you a great big kiss.’”

Sasha’s scowl deepened into disgust, but he dragged his crayon across the paper anyway, dotting a few imaginary ‘i’s angrily. Yuri chuckled as Sasha stomped away.

Yuri dried the counter and stepped back to admire his work. He wiped his damp hands on his jeans.

When Sasha appeared in the doorway again, he was wearing a shit-eating grin.

Yuri raised his eyebrows in suspicion. “Yes?”

The boy burst into a fit of giggles. “Daddy says he doesn’t want to kiss you because you smell like a skunk!”

Yuri leaned back against the counter, frowning. “Really? That doesn’t sound like Daddy.”

Sasha could barely breathe through his laughter. “He said it! He said it!”

Yuri tried his very best to look mad, but Sasha was so cute when he smiled. Like a tiny Beka. Yuri had always loved that about him. “Okay, I have a message back. Are you ready?”

It took a minute for Sasha to relocate the crayon, as it had fallen in the excitement, but by the time he found it, his laughter was under control. He looked up at Yuri expectantly.

When Yuri was sure he was ready, he said, “You can tell Daddy that I’m so mad at him, I don’t think I want to take anyone out to ice cream tonight.”

Sasha gasped, his mischief forgotten. “Papa, no!”

“Oh, yes.” Pushing off the counter, Yuri picked up the dirty rag and took it with him as he left the spotless bathroom. “I’m definitely not in the mood for ice cream anymore.”

“Wait!” Sasha was right at his heels. “He didn’t really say that!”

“You don’t have to cover for him, _kotyonok_ ,” Yuri said, heading into the laundry room. He opened the washer and dropped the rag inside.

“I swear, I made it up! Look!” The paper rustled as Sasha violently shook the unintelligible scribbles at Yuri.

Before he closed the washer, Yuri stopped and regarded Sasha coolly. “You made it up?”

“Yes!”

The washer slammed shut and Yuri advanced on his son. “Really? Because that would mean you lied.” Sasha took a few steps back, looking nervous. “You know what happens when you lie?”

Sasha’s uneasy look turned to delight as Yuri held up both hands in claws, threatening tickles. Sasha shrieked loudly and ran away. “Daddy!” he squealed. “Daddy!”

Warmth filled Yuri’s chest. He loved how Sasha filled the house with noise and life. He took after the child, growling dangerously. “Get back here, Sasha! You think I smell like a skunk, do you?”

They wound up in the living room, Sasha ducking behind Otabek’s legs. Otabek paused in winding up the vacuum cord.

Yuri’s eyes were trained on Sasha. “Don’t try to hide him, Beka,” he said, circling.

“Of course I will,” Otabek said, kneeling on the floor and gathering the child in his arms. “He’s my son, and I will always protect him.”

Sasha shot Yuri a triumphant look.

Yuri folded his arms. “He said I smell like a skunk.”

“Oh,” Beka said lightly. “Then you’re on your own, kid.” He released Sasha, who tumbled harmlessly to the carpet with a surprised squeak.

Immediately, Yuri pounced. His fingers found their way to Sasha’s ribs and wiggled. He didn’t stop until Sasha was breathless and begging for mercy. His screams probably disrupted the neighbors.

Otabek moved to put the vacuum away, tipping it back on its wheels. “If you want to shower before they get here, you’d better be quick,” he said as he passed by.

Still on the floor, Yuri sat back on his heels, pushing his disheveled hair away from his face. “Good idea.” He stood up, leaving his son exhausted on the carpet, red faced and still giggling.

 

* * *

 

They were enjoying some after-dinner cocktails when Sasha ran into the room, interrupting Victor’s story about Yuuri’s birthday. Tears streamed down Sasha’s cheeks as he ran to Otabek.

When Otabek saw his son’s face, he half-stood up to meet him. “What’s wrong, _aynalayın_?” he asked as he brought Sasha onto his lap.

Sasha sniffed heavily and showed Otabek what he was holding. “It-it broke!” he whimpered.

Since Yuri was right next to them on the couch, he leaned over to see the problem. Sasha held a toy car in one hand, a detached wheel in the other.

Yuri plucked them from Sasha’s hands with a quiet scoff. “That’s easily fixed. No need for tears.”

For a moment the only sounds in the room were Sasha’s ragged breaths and Otabek’s soothing words. As Yuri wrestled the toy into submission, he glanced up at them. Sasha was watching him carefully, sucking on the two middle fingers in his right hand. He had never been a thumb sucking kind of child, opting for his other fingers instead, even when he was a baby.

The wheel snapped into place and Yuri handed the car back to Sasha. “Don’t suck your fingers,” he said. “It’s bad for your teeth.”

Sasha released his fingers with a soft ‘pop’ and took the toy, getting drool all over Yuri’s hand. “Thanks, Papa!” he exclaimed happily as he ran from the room, as if nothing had happened.

Yuri’s nose scrunched in disgust as he wiped off his hand on his pants. The joys of parenthood. “We need to get him to stop sucking his fingers,” he said to Otabek. “He’s too old for it.”

Victor laughed. “I think it’s cute.”

“Yeah, cute until you have to shovel out a small fortune for braces because his teeth get all messed up.” Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Yuuri supplied. “Soon he won’t want to cuddle at all.”

Yuri bit back a snappy reply. Leave it to Katsudon to give the most cliché advice ever.

“There are perks, though,” Victor pointed out. “Like when they get old enough babysit their younger siblings?” As if on cue, his cell phone dinged, notifying Victor of a new text. He glanced down and shrugged it off. “They’re fine,” he said to Yuuri.

“Wait, no, what did that text say?”

“Nothing, it’s not important!”

The two bickered over whether the need for parental intervention was necessary, but Yuri wasn’t listening because Potya had just entered the room and he was trying to coax her over with his eyes. In typical cat fashion, she took her time and acted disinterested as she casually made her way over. Finally, she slid her head against Yuri’s shin and he picked her up.

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” Yuri cooed as she tolerated his attention. “Where have you been? Did you nap? Did you enjoy your dinner?” His voice fell into a soft lilt as he ran his fingers through her soft fur. The vibrations of her purr made him smile.

When she hopped off his lap to allow Otabek to pay his respects to her as well, Yuri noticed Victor laughing at him. “You’re sweeter to the cat than you are to your kid!”

“Victor,” Yuuri scolded gently.

Yuri immediately felt defensive. “Potya’s elderly!” he spat.

“So?” Victor challenged, still amused. “Sasha’s four.”

“But Sasha’s not some animal. I’m not going to baby-talk him. He can understand what I’m saying.”

“Hey, we all parent a little differently,” Yuuri said to Victor, still using that diplomatic voice. Victor’s phone dinged again. “For instance,” Yuuri sighed, “You are ignoring our children entirely.”

Victor looked at his phone again. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s go.”

Otabek stood up to walk them out, but Yuri stayed on the couch, fuming.

 

* * *

 

He was still fuming as he sat in bed later that night, a few pillows behind his back. The TV bathed the room in dim light, but Yuri didn’t pay attention to what was on.

Victor didn’t know what he was talking about. Yuri treated Sasha just fine. Maybe he’s not the most affectionate parent of all time, but he’d never been a particularly touchy person to begin with.

He tried to remember the last time he had cuddled with Sasha. He used to a lot, when he was a baby. Babies need cuddles. It’s essential to their survival.

But Sasha wasn’t a baby anymore. His round little face had shaped into one of a child. He shed his baby fat. His chunky arms and legs grew lithe and graceful, like Yuri’s had been as a kid. A new little Russian Fairy. Not a baby.

And Yuri was happy for it. As Sasha had grown more independent, crawling and walking and exploring the world, Yuri was happy to let him. He loved watching Sasha make new discoveries, loved seeing his creativity take shape. Like today, with the messenger game Sasha came up with. That was adorable.

Still, Sasha _was_ only four. It was a strange in-between age, when he was fresh out of toddler-hood. He still reverted back sometimes, still had those clingy moments. That’s when Beka always stepped in.

Sasha called for Daddy when he got hurt. He called for Daddy when he had a nightmare. And when his favorite toy broke, Sasha ran into Daddy’s arms. Never Papa’s.

The door creaked as Otabek came in and turned off the TV. “He’s out,” he announced, sliding into bed.

Yuri didn’t dignify that with a reply. Of course Sasha was out. They’d put him to bed two hours ago.

Otabek shimmied close and pressed feather-light kisses against Yuri’s collarbone. “What are you thinking about?” he whispered.

Yuri sighed. “Do you think I’m not affectionate enough with Sasha?”

Otabek chuckled, his breath hot against Yuri’s neck. “Victor got in your head?”

That earned Otabek a playful shove. “Shut up. He did not.” They both laid down, but Otabek leaned on his elbow so he could look Yuri in the face. Yuri gave in to his assessing eyes. “But you have to admit, it’s true. You’re the more touchy-feely dad.”

“So what?” Otabek said. “You heard Yuuri. Everyone parents a little differently.”

Yuri slid an arm behind his head for support. “You don’t think there’s something wrong with me, that I don’t enjoy coddling him as much as you?”

“Of course not. We’re both good at different parts of the job. That’s what makes us such a good team.”

Perhaps, but what part was Yuri good at? Beka had the emotional support part under control, but did Yuri contribute? He fixed car wheels, made peanut butter sandwiches, gave baths. Beka could do all those things too. And frequently did.

“Besides…” Otabek interrupted Yuri’s thoughts when he flopped onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Could you imagine if we both wanted to cuddle him? The poor kid would never get away!”

Yuri laughed. “Like Victor and Yuuri’s kids.”

“I’m convinced that’s why they had more than one,” Otabek said seriously. “Because they couldn’t share.”

Yuri smiled and let Otabek pull him close, resting a cheek on Otabek’s shoulder.

Otabek planted a kiss in his hair. “Sasha loves you,” he murmured, “just the way you are. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.” Yuri closed his eyes and tried to quiet his mind. “You’re right.”

 

* * *

 

The next day was Sunday, and on Sundays, the Altin-Plisetskys went to the rink. Sasha wanted to be an ice skater when he grew up. He was far too young to participate in any formal training, but he had been introduced to the ice practically the day he took his first steps.

He still wasn’t very good, lacking the basic muscle coordination needed to do anything more complicated than skating in a circle, but he was better than most kids his age. He could move around without holding his parents’ hands for balance.

Yuri held him today, though, helping him gain enough speed to work his way through a basic swizzle. “Feet together, then apart, then together,” he said, instructing him until Sasha made shaky ovals on the ice.

“Look, Daddy!” Sasha called, even though Otabek was skating right next to them.

“I see,” Otabek replied, his voice fond. Neither of them mentioned that real swizzles propel the skater forward, and Sasha was simply going through the motions as Yuri pushed him along. Sasha would get there one day.

It wasn’t long before Yuri abandoned the exercise, letting Sasha skate ahead a little while he stretched his back. It was hard to crouch above him like that.

“You okay?” Otabek said, slowing down alongside him.

“Yeah,” Yuri said, flashing him a small smile. “I must be getting old.”

Otabek opened his mouth to reply, but they were both distracted as an unsteady child whizzed past them, clearly going too fast for his skill level. There was no time to do anything but watch as the boy, probably around nine years old and at least three times larger than Sasha, plowed their son over. Both boys ended up sprawled across the ice.

Yuuri was already skating over in alarm when Sasha’s head popped up. There was a stunned look on his face for a moment before he started to scream at the top of his lungs.

It wasn’t the normal ‘I fell and got surprised’ cry. It wasn’t the ‘I skinned my knee and it hurts’ wail. No. It was a ‘Something is _majorly_ wrong’ scream.

Yuri’s heart stuttered when he saw the unnatural angle of his son’s wrist. He could tell instantly that it was dislocated, maybe even broken. Many things happened at once.

Almost immediately, Yuri was ready to murder the other kid. That kid would be lucky if he could walk out of this building once Yuri got done with him. But Yuri’s eyes darted back to Sasha’s face, to the absolute panic and pain there, and he knew there were more important things right now.

He looked around for Beka, too, but his husband was still standing right where Yuri left him, his face whiter than Yuri had ever seen.

Oh. Okay.

Yuri’s priorities snapped right into order. Sasha needed him, first and most of all.

This all happened in the few seconds it took to rush his son’s side. He skidded to a stop and dropped to his knees next to Sasha.

“We need first aid out here!” he barked, hoping a rink employee was within earshot. He glanced back at Beka, who was still frozen. Yuri was willing to bet Otabek couldn’t drive, and probably wouldn’t be much good at calming Sasha down either. Yuri would be incapable of doing both jobs at once, so he caught eyes with the nearest calm adult and said, “Call an ambulance?”

Yuri tuned his attention to Sasha, who was still screaming. He eased Sasha’s head into his lap, careful not to touch or move the arm. “Shhh, _kotyonok_ , I’m here.” As expected, his words didn’t do much good. Yuri stroked Sasha’s face and hair, anything to provide a little comfort. “Otabek!” he shouted.

Otabek snapped out of his daze and came over, but just stood above them, looking confused and lost.

“Elevate his legs,” Yuri said, pointing. “We don’t want him to go into shock.”

Otabek did as he was told, but Yuri didn’t have time to pay much attention because someone from the rink had arrived.

“Did he hit his head?” the employee asked as she knelt beside them.

“I’m not sure,” Yuri answered. If Sasha was a little older, maybe they could ask him, but there was no way he could answer now.

She looked Sasha up and down. “I don’t see any blood,” she said.

“Me either,” said Yuri.

“The hospital’s close. It shouldn’t be long until the ambulance is here. It’ll be better not to move him…”

“Right.”

The rink employee draped a blanket over Sasha, to help with the chill in the air. Sasha’s breath was coming in quick gasps. “It’s okay,” Yuri whispered, noticing the way Sasha’s eyes locked on him. “You’re okay. Be strong, my _kotyonok_.”

 

* * *

 

“Knock knock?” Otabek’s nervous voice drifted into the room.

Yuri tore his eyes away from his sleeping son and looked at his husband. He smiled. “Welcome back.”

Yuri had kept one eye on Otabek all day. He watched Otabek cringe his way through Sasha’s screams. He watched Otabek hold back tears when the doctors decided to put Sasha to sleep because he was too panicked for them to do their job properly. Yuri held their son’s hand and watched Otabek slowly unravel until the doctors were going to put Sasha’s wrist back into place. Finally, with a shaky voice and a complexion that looked slightly green, he had excused himself to the waiting area.

A small part of Yuri had wanted to follow Otabek and make sure he was okay, but in the end, the scared four-year-old took precedence over the scared husband.

Now, Otabek’s face bore a much healthier-looking color and an ashamed frown. He pulled a chair right next to Yuri’s and looked down at their son. “How’s he doing?”

“They say he should be up soon. No concussion, no broken bones.”

Otabek nodded with a relieved sigh. He looked down and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I froze,” he said distantly. Yuri glanced over and saw Otabek’s eyes were misty, but no tears fell. “I couldn’t move.”

Yuri took Otabek’s hand in both of his. “I know.”

“I’ve seen hundreds of accidents on the ice,” Otabek said, wonder tinging his voice. “Broken bones, stitches, concussions, but… this was Sasha.”

“I know,” Yuri said again.

Otabek met his eyes. “You were so calm. How did you do it? I mean…” They both looked back at Sasha, who seemed impossibly small on the hospital bed. “It was our baby.”

“I was so scared,” Yuri admitted. “You’re right; it _was_ different, but… I guess that’s why I kept calm. I didn’t have a choice. I had to take care of him.”

Otabek sunk down in his chair so he could lay his head on Yuri’s shoulder. “Thank god you were with us.”

Yuri gave him a light hum and rubbed the back of Otabek’s hand with his thumb. They sat in silence and watched Sasha sleep.

He looked younger, curled up in the big bed with an IV going into his hand. Certainly younger than he looked when he was asleep at home. Yuri felt the need to hold him and keep him safe and never, ever let him go.

So when Sasha blinked his eyes slowly open, reached out his non-injured hand and said, “Papa…” in the smallest voice Yuri had ever heard, that’s exactly what he did. He held him.

 

* * *

 

By the time Sasha was released from the hospital, he had charmed all the nurses in the emergency room. One of them had given him a sticker with a dinosaur. Sasha wore it proudly on his sling and showed everyone on the way out.

They took a cab home, since their car was still at the rink. Yuri assumed they’d worry about it tomorrow.

In spite of Sasha’s burst of energy at the hospital, Yuri suspected it would only be a matter of time before he crashed. Even on their way home, he’d latched himself onto Yuri’s arm, leaning against him heavily as the cab bounced along. When they finally got home, Yuri tried to pass him off to Beka so he could get out of the car, but Sasha was stubborn.

“Nooo,” he whined, a death grip on Yuri’s arm. Yuri shared a glance with Otabek. They both recognized that tone. It meant Sasha was too tired, and any arguing would only result in a Massive Tantrum.

“I got it,” Yuri said to Otabek, slowly shifting Sasha onto his lap so they could get out. “Why don’t you get the Disney Channel on in our room? We’ll all watch it in bed.”

Sasha’s head perked up a little. “Can we have ice cream, too?”

“That depends.” Yuri tilted to look his son in the eye. “Do you still think I smell like a skunk?”

Sasha giggled drowsily. “No,” he said, putting his forehead on Yuri’s chest.

“Of course we can, _aynalayın_ ,” Otabek said sweetly. He and Yuri met eyes again and had a mental telepathy moment in which they both understood Sasha would be asleep long before any ice cream was doled out.

Sure enough, by the time they made it upstairs, Sasha refused to even watch the Disney Channel because it was impossible to stay pillowed on Yuri’s chest and see the TV at the same time. Yuri wrapped his arms around Sasha’s back as he felt his son relax into sleep.

Otabek gently stacked some pillows under Sasha’s arm. “Maybe if we make him sleep in the sling, he won’t suck his fingers anymore,” he joked.

Yuri chuckled lightly. “With our luck, he’ll use his other hand.”

His husband climbed into bed next to them, putting his head on Yuri’s shoulder like he did in the hospital. He stroked the soft skin on Sasha’s uninjured arm. “I don’t think I like this,” he teased, motioning toward Sasha’s comfortable position on top of Yuri.

“Too bad,” Yuri said gruffly, playing with the ends of Sasha’s hair.

“No, I mean it,” Otabek said, looking up at Yuri with a pout. “I feel very lonely, over here by myself.”

“Well…” Yuri glanced down, a challenge in his eye. “We know how Yuuri and Victor dealt with the problem.”

Not even their laughter could wake Sasha up.

**Author's Note:**

> kotyonok-Russian term of endearment meaning 'kitten'
> 
> aynalayın-Kazakh term of endearment meaning 'my dearest' or 'my precious one'
> 
> (although that's all just google research so if it's wrong, someone tell me!)
> 
> Big thanks to my beta, ladymurloc, who helped make sure I didn't exaggerate the medical stuff too much.


End file.
